Deductions
by Sherlocked-Dawn
Summary: Something is bothering Sherlock but he won't say what and it is up to John to figure it out.


**Thank you to those who are following my stories and I apologize for the delay, I just got out of the hospital. I hope that you enjoy!**

_Deductions_

"I'm bored, John."

"You're always bored. If you just worked on a couple of smaller cases while you waited to hear from Lestrade…"

Sherlock snorted. "That is an insult to my intelligence. I have better things to do with my precious time."

"Like shooting holes in the wall and laying on the couch complaining?"

"Yes. Exactly," Sherlock glared.

John rolled his eyes and flipped open his newspaper. They sat in a peaceful silence for a few moments before Sherlock yelled, "bored!" again. Annoyed, John peered over his paper.

"Then do something! Play your violin or do an experiment! Just stop saying that bloody word!"

"No," Sherlock replied simply.

"You are unbelievable." John pulled himself out of his favorite chair and went to the refrigerator to look for something to eat.

"Ugh!" He exclaimed, slamming the door shut. He walked back into the living room and looked at Sherlock. "What is that in the fridge?"

"A brain."

"Why is it in there?"

"It's for an experiment, obviously."

"But why is it on the food shelf? I thought we agreed to keep your things on the bottom shelf away from the food. I can't even eat what's in there now. It wasn't even wrapped up!"

"There wasn't enough space on my shelf so I borrowed some of yours."

"Do me a favor, will you? The next time you leave something like that in the fridge, especially next to the food, at least cover it, alright?"

Sherlock sighed. "Fine."

"Now that we don't have any edible food, I'm going out. Would you like to join me"

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten in two days. Come and have a salad or something. I insist. Or at least come just to get some fresh air. Get out of this dusty flat."

Sherlock sat up, stretching. "I'll go but I'm not eating."

They made their way to Sherlock's favorite café.

"Tea?" The waiter asked after being seated in their usual spot.

"Do I ever get anything else?" Sherlock snapped. John whispered a quick "sorry" to the waiter as he walked away.

"Why are you acting like a complete dick?" John asked as Sherlock childishly put his feet up on another chair and folded his arms. "I mean more of a dick, excuse me."

"John, I have no idea what you are talking about. I come in here quite frequently and I always get the same drink order. It's not my fault they haven't been paying attention."

"Well if you had been paying attention, you would have noticed that the waiter was new."

Sherlock looked out the window.

"What is wrong, Sherlock? You are acting stranger than usual."

"None of your business John, and if it was, don't you think that I would have told you?"

No, because you never tell me anything. You constantly insist that I figure things out on my own."

"I stand by that."

John eyed him. "You're fidgeting and haven't made eye contact with me in the last ten minutes. Are you sure you are okay?"

"I'm fine John!" Sherlock snapped again.

The waiter came back with the tea. "Are you ready to order?" he asked holding a pen and notepad.

"I am, yes." Sherlock said loudly. "I would like the parmesan chicken because if I am going to be forced to eat something, I should at least choose something I'll enjoy. And on a side note, if you are going to smoke marijuana before coming to work, be smart enough to use eye drops and invest in a strong cologne."

The waiter looked shocked for a moment before pulling himself together. "My apologies sir. It's my first day. I'm nervous."

John still hadn't taken his eyes off of Sherlock when the waiter asked, "And for you sir?" John cleared his throat. "I'll have the same, thanks."

As soon as the waiter walked away, John hissed, "What the hell was that?! He's probably going to spit in our food now. What was all that about?"

"You wanted me to order something, so I did. Aren't you the one who wanted me to eat? And as far as the waiter is concerned, his brain cells are so fried he probably wouldn't even think of spitting in our food."

"Not just the waiter! This whole damn evening! You've been acting very odd. What's wrong?"

"I thought it would be obvious."

"It's not obvious to me."

"That's because you aren't thinking."

"That's it. I'm done. Either tell me what is wrong or not. I'm not playing detective with you."

"You shouldn't because you're a doctor… wait! You're a doctor!"

"I'm really starting to worry about you."

"Don't. I'm fine. This is brilliant! I know what I have to do to get you to understand."

"By telling me?"

"No, that's boring. You just have to use your brain. I know you have one."

"That's good to know. I wasn't sure so I'm glad you cleared that up."

Sherlock didn't respond but instead pulled out his cell phone and started texting. John watched him closely trying to see if he could deduce anything from him but Sherlock had become as blank as ever.

Sherlock only looked up when the waiter brought their food. "Thank you," Sherlock smiled. John noticed that he avoided his gaze and he didn't look up from his plate until every bite was gone.

"That was delightful," Sherlock said after he had set his fork down.

John had only eaten half of his, he was too busy watching Sherlock that he didn't pay much attention too his own meal.

"Oh come now John, you can't complain to me about needing to eat, only to neglect your own dinner. That is hypocritical."

John nodded and took a few more bites. "Sorry, I'm just not as hungry as I thought I was."

"Well if you are finished, lets pay and get out of here. I have somewhere that I need to go."

"And where is that?" John asked as he pulled money out of his wallet to pay the waiter.

"The park."

They walked down by the river watching the ducks for a while before John asked, "So what are we doing here? I'm missing my telly."

"Honestly John, is that all you think about? There is more to life than the television. Here, take my hand."

John stopped walking. "What?!"

"You heard me. Take my hand."

"No! People already talk, imagine what they'll say now!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "For Gods sake John, you act like it's the worst thing in the world. There is nothing wrong with holding someone's hand. As for the press, let them talk."

John shook his head. "You must be out of your mind." Nevertheless, he took Sherlock's outstretched hand and intertwined their fingers.

They started walking again and John attempted not to blush before he noticed something. Sherlock's hand was sweaty and he could feel his heartbeat through his palm. It was elevated. He looked at the taller man. He was blushing too! And was that a hidden smile? For the second time John stopped and stared at Sherlock. Everything was coming together.

"Ah," said Sherlock. "You've figured it out."

"You like me."

"Love is more the word, but yes, that is the general idea."

"How long?" John pulled his hand away and stepped back. He wanted to see the man in full view.

"A month."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you let me know so we could talk about it? And what about this evening? What was that all about-"

John thought about it hard now. There had been plenty of space on the bottom shelf and besides, Sherlock respected John's rule for no food on the top shelf. He had done it on purpose because he knew John wouldn't eat the food in there once something like that was set there. Dinner. Sherlock was nervous! Avoiding eye contact, lashing out, it all fit.

"Sherlock, you did this on purpose didn't you? And having me hold your hand. You knew I'd feel your pulse! That's why you were excited when you remembered I was a doctor!"

"Good job, John. I knew you'd figure it out."

"Can I ask something? Why me? Why? I'm nothing special, I'm ordinary."

Sherlock stepped closer. "Not to me. I've never met anyone who was as caring and as brave as you are. Your level-headed, strong-willed. You are the opposite of me. You've filled my life with something special and as much as I annoy you and make you want to punch me in the face and leave, you don't. You've stayed with me through good and bad and I trust you with my life. I love you John Watson."

John smiled. "That's good enough for me."

He grabbed Sherlock's scarf and pulled him down to eye-level. "I wouldn't want to punch you in the face so much if you talked like that more often."

John closed the space between them and their lips met. It was an explosion of sensations and feelings. Fingers were tangled through hair and tongues battled. After a moment, they forced themselves apart.

"Is it too late to tell you that I love you too?"

"It'll never be too late."

"Then I love you Sherlock."

Their eyes locked for the first time that evening and it said it all. Sherlock bent down for another kiss before they started walking again.

"Take my hand," Sherlock said to John.

John let out a laugh and linked their fingers together.

The End


End file.
